Chapter 18: No Plea for Him

Gideon Wren came down the tribunal corridor with a typed page already pressed into Caspian's hand.

He held a pen out to Alex.

'Make him sign it,' Gideon said.

The corridor was bright with midday light. Two councilors stood near the windows with their folders.

Chen. Marchetti.

Alex looked at the pen. Then at the page in Caspian's grip.

'You came here to do something,' Gideon said. 'Here it is.'

Caspian had not moved. His fingers were closed around the paper hard enough to bend the edge.

Gideon stepped closer to Alex. Close enough to keep his voice low and still be heard.

'The council cannot review a motion while my nephew's accusation sits on the record,' he said.

'You understand that. You built this.'

'So do what you came here to do.'

Alex took the pen out of Gideon's fingers.

He looked at it.

The barrel was warm from Gideon's hand.

Gold light crawled out of Alex's right wrist.

It started thin, a bright line under the skin, and then it broke through.

It snapped toward Caspian across the corridor.

The thread passed through Chen's folder and Marchetti's folder and kept going.

It caught on Caspian's chest and held there, humming.

Alex did not move. He had spent his exile learning to let it burn without moving.

Gideon watched the light. His grip on the pen had not loosened, but his eyes went to Caspian, then back to Alex, then to the thread.

He did not say anything about it.

Alex set the pen down on the corridor bench between them.

It rolled a quarter turn and stopped.

He had practiced this in a cell for a long time, and the practice held.

Gideon's smile did not move. His hand went to the lapel pin at his collar.

'You told him to accuse me,' he said.

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